


Sometimes a metaphor is another metaphor

by BlairFagin



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-05 14:30:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1821838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlairFagin/pseuds/BlairFagin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Megatron has written some poetry for Trailcutter. Unfortunately Trailcutter doesn't understand, so he searches out Hoist to explain it for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waves and Caves

Trailcutter fiddled with the datapad in his hand, shuffling his feet and hunching his shoulders. 

“What is it, Teebs?” asked Hoist as he looked up from his drink. 

“You know poetry right?”

“I know the basics, why?”

“Megatron wrote me some poetry,” spluttered Trailcutter.

Hoist slowly looked up and pushed his drink away, “What?”

“He gave me a poem and said he wrote it about me.”

Hoist ran recalibrations on his audials and slumped forwards on table, “Why did you feel the need to tell me this?”

“Because I don’t get it! He said it’s about me, but I don’t see how. It’s about a mech who goes for a walk on an alien planet and looks at the scenery. I don’t see how I’m alien scenery.”

Hoist stared at his drink, becoming more and more suspicious by the second what Swerve was using to make his beverages with. He shook his helm and tried to get a grip on his processor.

“It’s all to do with metaphors, Teebs, give it here and I’ll explain it to you.” 

Trailcutter beamed and shuffled into the booth beside Hoist. The datapad slid across the table and Hoist picked it up to thumb through the contents. After a few minutes of reading he looked back up to Trailcutter, who had a hopeful expression. 

“See, what we have here is a typical mushy love poem. Like here, where the mech travels through the dripping alien tunnel on a train to reach the promised city, or whatever pretentious way he worded it, that’s a metaphor for how being with you has opened a whole new world to him.”

Trailcutter wriggled in his seat and a slight shy smile crept onto his face, “You really think so?”

Hoist sighed and rolled his optics, “Yes, and it gets worse. Here while walking along the beach he sees a cave and the water is rushing up against the rocks and flowing into it. He talks about how even though the rocks are strong, over time the water will wear it away to get reach what’s behind it. That’s your force field, Teebs and getting behind it to you.”

Trailcutter sighed and took the datapad back, clutching it to his chassis, “I never knew he could be so romantic.”

“Um, excuse me?” asked a small voice.

Rung stood by their booth, leant forwards slightly and hands firmly clasped behind his back, “I couldn’t but overhear you were talking about poetry. I was wondering if I could have a look, seeing as I have a keen interest in the subject.”

Trailcutter brightened and eagerly handed the datapad over, “Of course, I’d be happy to show you.”

Rung’s trademark polite smile spread across his face as he took the poem, “Thank you very much, Trailcutter.”

Hoist returned to his drink and Trailcutter settled in to watch Rung read the poem, expression eager. As Hoist downed his drink though, Rung’s face gradually turned horrified and a pink flush crept over his face. 

He handed the poem back with a forced cough, “I didn’t realise you had a penchant for erotic poetry, Trailcutter.”

Energon splattered across the table as Hoist dropped his drink, choking as the rest of it filled his vents. 

“What?” asked Trailcutter as his face fell. 

“The train and tunnel metaphor, or the cave and wave one, they are clearly erotic.”

Trailcutter’s faceplates creased as he tried to understand, “I don’t see how that’s erotic.”

“Yeah,” gasped Hoist between his coughing. “It’s not like anyone is interfacing.”

“But what do they have in common?” asked Rung as he surveyed their blank faces. “A wet hole.”

When they remained silent the psychiatrist took a deep vent and held up his hands. He placed one thumb to index finger, creating a circle, while with the other hand he pointed his index finger. He then passed the pointed finger through the circle several times, micking a thrusting motion. 

Trailcutter shot out of seat and slammed his palms down on the table, “WHAT!”

The entire bar turned to watch the trio and Hoist tried to sink under the table, failing due to his size. 

“The poem is clearly about interface,” stammered Rung, taking a step backwards. “It’s about valve metaphors being penetrated or entered. I thought it was obvious.”

Hoist watched as realisation dawned on his friends face, passing through a mixture of emotions, ranging from embarrassment to anger before finally settling on horror. 

“Megatron wrote an erotic poem about me. A poem I gave others to read!”

Hoist stared at the table, trying to ignore everything happening, or pass it off as the drink. Maybe he should get his chip permanently put on line like Trailcutter, then his processor wouldn’t create such crazy scenarios to torture him with. 

“I need to go,” gasped Trailcutter before sprinting out the room. 

Rung sat down beside Hoist and rested his helm on the table, “Hoist, do me a favour and order some drinks, I think we’ll be needing them.”


	2. In the Dark

“Trailcutter, can I come in?” 

No reply came through the door and Megatron huffed in annoyance before punching in the override code. He didn’t care if it was an invasion of privacy, boundaries could wait while the first good relationship he’d ever had was on the line. The door slid open with a hiss and Megatron strode into the dark room. The door locked behind him and he was left in darkness, the only source of light was the stars outside the window. It was a pathetic excuse for lighting, only serving to illuminate a small silver patch of the floor, everything else drenched in pitch blackness. 

“Trailcutter?”

Something in the darkness of the room moved and a dark silhouette rose before the window, Trailcutter rising to sit on his berth. Megatron watched as the silhouette hunched over, not daring to cross the room to further his intrusion. 

“Trailcutter, can we talk?” asked Megatron as he stood firm. “I feel there are some things we need to sort out.”

Trailcutter didn’t move for a few long seconds, then turned to stare at Megatron, visor shining through the darkness.

“I was so embarrassed. I didn’t know what that fragging poem meant. So I asked Hoist and he said it meant really nice stuff, like I’d opened up a new world to you and you’d get through to me and other fragging slag like that. Then Rung came along and told me it was all just a smut poem and the whole bar overheard and by now the whole ship knows,” he babbled as his frame trembled. 

“I’m sorry about this, I never wanted to embarrass you. I should not have expected you would understand my poem. I was just so pleased with myself, that I had finally written something that perfectly captured my feelings, that I didn’t pay any thought to if you’d understand.” 

Trailcutter slammed his fist down on the berth and it echoed around the room, “How you feel about me? It was just a stupid poem about how much you like my valve!”

Megatron crossed the room, storming over until he stood above Trailcutter.

“It wasn’t just a poem about that.”

“What?” 

“It wasn’t just about how I liked your valve, though that was part of it. Rung may have been right in his analysis, but so was Hoist. The poem was about you, all of you. From the way I feel about you to your valve. I’m sorry that it embarrassed you so much, truly I am, but it wasn’t just a silly erotic poem and don’t let anyone, especially that sexual deviant Rung, tell you otherwise.”

Trailcutter stared up in shock, “Oh, okay.”

That was it? All that moping and hiding in darkness, all to be forgiven just like that? It was enough though, it was all Megatron needed and he crawled onto the berth. He pulled his lover close until Trailcutter’s back pressed against Megatron’s chassis. Trailcutter tilted his helm back until he could see Megatron’s face, half illuminated by the window. 

“I’m sorry I got angry at you, this whole thing was my fault. I should have asked you for help.”

Megatron placed a kiss on Trailcutter’s forehelm, “It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was just an accident that no one can be blamed for. Those accidents do exist, unfortunately. I always hated them, I couldn’t take out my frustration on anyone.”

“Perhaps you could let out a frustration another way?” asked Trailcutter, grinding his aft against Megatron’s interface panel. 

Without pause Megatron swooped forward to capture Trailcutter’s lips. As he plundered the mech’s mouth, a servo groped Trailcutter’s chassis, dipping into transformation seams to tweak at the wires hidden there, while the other dipped lower to palm the blistering hot interface panel. Trailcutter’s helm snapped back against Megatron’s shoulder as he groaned deeply, bucking against the exploring servo. Megatron smiled and mouthed at Trailcutter’s neck, feeling every bit back moan or desperate gasp against his derma. He ground the heel of his servo against Trailcutter’s panel and was rewarded with the click of latches unlocking. He used his fingers to spread the metal mesh folds of the valve, already slick with lubricant, and massaged the array. Trailcutter gasped as Megatron teased his anterior node with his thumb and played with the area surrounding his opening without actually plunging in. 

“Oh, you tease.”

“Really, Trailcutter, I’m the tease? How can I be when you’re the one spread out on your berth in the darkness? So cruel, I can’t see what’s being offered to me. I’ll just have to feel what’s there.”

He pressed two fingers into Trailcutter’s valve and felt the body pressed against him shudder. He pumped them at a leisurely pace, trying to rev Trailcutter up instead of actually bringing him to overload. It served its purpose and soon the mech was a writhing, wanton mess, begging for more. 

“Please,” gasped Trailcutter as Megatron bit his neck. “Please.”

Megatron pulled his fingers free, eliciting a desperate whine, and grabbed Trailcutter’s hips to lift him. His spike pressurised with a hiss and he let Trailcutter drop. Megatron thrust to meet him and with one long movement completely hilted himself in Trailcutter, making them both cry out in pleasure. 

“Now, Trailcutter,” growled Megatron into his partner’s audial. “How about I recite some real erotic poetry while I pleasure that tight, hot valve of yours.”

“Oh, yes,” gasped Trailcutter as Megatron bounced him on his spike. “Please, I want to hear everything.”

Megatron grinned as he slammed Trailcutter down, “Good. Now where shall I start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is done and I am dead. Don't expect any more. This whole thing was originally going to be a 500 word little fic, then it turned into this mess. No more, please no more!

**Author's Note:**

> Based off London's headcanon she convinced me to make a fic of.


End file.
